


Little Lass

by LeilaSecretSmith



Series: Vennesetiid [6]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: "How to babysit a Dragonborn", Alternately titled, Child!Dragonborn, Dragonborn does not approve, Gen, Mage Dragonborn, Post Diplomatic Immunity, Ragged Flagon, Subterfuge via shoving your little sister into a canal, The Cistern, Thieves Guild, Very smooth Leila, Voice disguises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 20:23:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10998309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeilaSecretSmith/pseuds/LeilaSecretSmith
Summary: Brynjolf meets Alea, the Guildmaster's adopted little sister, for the first time when the two come to the Ragged Flagon while pursued by Thalmor.It doesn't take long to see the family resemblance.





	Little Lass

The door flew open with a loud ‘BANG!’ as Leila burst into the Ragged Flagon, sprinting straight toward the assembled thieves. Brynjolf looked up from the ledger he had been editing, instinctively standing and turning toward his protégé. Such hasty arrivals from the young Nord lass tended to herald disaster, in his experience.

“BrynthisismyslittleistertakehertotheCisternandwatchheruntilIgetbackThalmorintheWarrensI’llbebacksoon!”

The words came at him in a rush just as overwhelming as their speaker’s personality. Brynjolf staggered, blindly accepting the large, wet bundle that Leila shoved into his unprepared arms, and watched in bewilderment as she promptly disappeared into the Warrens.

“What—ah?” he stuttered far too late. The bundle squirmed irritably, and he looked down into a mask-covered face. The pieced clicked together as the masked girl squirmed again, sliding halfway out of his arms. “Ah, so you’re Leila’s little sister,” he commented, still confused.

Then the rest of Leila’s words caught up to him.

Brynjolf’s eyes widened in alarm. “Shit!” he cursed, snatching his newfound charge back up and sprinting for the Cistern. “Thalmor! Del, watch the Flagon!” he yelled over his shoulder. A faint, alarmed “wot?” followed his retreat.

“Put me down!” the kid said in an incongruously deep voice.

Brynjolf nearly dropped her.

“What in Oblivion!” he exclaimed as he shouldered the door to the Cistern open, glancing incredulously down at his new charge. “Is that your actual voice, little lass?”

“No,” she said grumpily, punching his shoulder. “My mask is enchanted. Now put me down!”

“Alright, lass, just a moment,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. Now he knew why Leila always complained about her headstrong little sister.

The thieves in the Cistern looked up at Bryn’s sudden appearance, staring curiously at the girl in his arms. The whole Thieves Guild knew about Leila’s little sister Alea by this point, though they had never seen her in person. Leila was notoriously protective of her.

“Whatcha got there, Brynjolf?” Rune asked, trotting up to the pair as Bryn set Alea in a chair by his bed.

“Leila’s sister,” the redhead responded distractedly. One of Alea’s arms was in a sling, and he crouched to examine it. “Lass, why are you dripping wet? And what did you do to your arm?”

Even with the mask, Brynjolf and Rune could _feel_ the girl’s scowl.

 “Leila pushed me into the fucking canal, that’s what happened,” Alea snapped.

“I’ll go get a towel,” Rune said quickly, opting to retreat.

Surprisingly, she allowed Bryn to ease her arm out of the sling and examine it. “My arm was injured before we got here,” she added.

Brynjolf’s green eyes flicked briefly up to her mask before returning to her arm. “And why did she push you into the canal?”

She grunted derisively in the back of her throat. “The Thalmor are after us, that’s why. Riften is _crawling_ with them, and they’re looking for me.”

“And why would they—“ he stopped suddenly, remembering Etienne’s description of his rescuer: small, masked, and absurdly powerful. He couldn’t help but sit back on his heels and stare in disbelief.

Alea apparently knew exactly what he was thinking. “Etienne got back safe, then?” she asked.

“Yes,” he responded, his mouth suddenly dry. “Came back with quite a few, ah, _stories._ ”

“It’s not a secret, Brynjolf,” she said in amusement. The uneasiness in his chest faded at her tone, and he turned back to her arm. “Everyone knows that the Dragonborn is a small, masked mage. Most people just don’t know I’m Leila’s sister.”

“You’d think this is something she would have mentioned,” he muttered, easing the arm back into its sling.

“Nah,” she responded, turning to Rune as he came toward them, towel in hand. “She doesn’t like talking about it. Says it feels like cheating.”

And that, Brynjolf would admit, definitely sounded like Leila.

“Here you go,” Rune said cheerfully, dropping the towel into her lap. She immediately reached up and pulled her hood down, then gingerly removed her mask.

Brynjolf and Rune both stared curiously as she began drying the mask. She looked exactly like Leila had described: soft cheeks, bright green eyes, curly black hair, and two thick scars that ran vertically beneath her left eye. She was also clearly a Breton, and Brynjolf filed that fact away for later.

Those bright green eyes glanced up, filled with annoyance. “What?” she snapped, cheeks flushing pink under the men’s scrutiny.

“Nothing,” they said simultaneously.

Alea snorted disbelievingly and replaced her mask before attending to her dripping clothes and hair. “You’re both thieves,” she scolded as she toweled her hair dry. “You’re supposed to be _subtle_.”

“Says the lass who set the Thalmor Embassy on _fire_ ,” Brynjolf said dryly.

Alea threw the towel at his face.


End file.
